


it's been a long time

by diana_hawthorne (stsgirlie)



Category: Cracks (2009)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stsgirlie/pseuds/diana_hawthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still as lovely as ever, she thinks when she regards her dearest, her closest friend – the Madeline to her Porphyro on that fateful night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's been a long time

Cornflower-blue eyes half-covered by curls the colour of the sun look away. Shapeless pink cotton drapes over her body, detracting not one iota from her loveliness.

Hay-coloured hair, held back by a pin, shines in the light that streamed through open windows.

They are eighteen years old the last time they see each other like this; decades ago. They have not met after she left, though they might have, though they have arranged to meet so many times. But there was always something that cropped up, always some reason they had not been able to face each other for all those years.

And now they are here, facing each other again.

‘I came to see Di,’ she says, ‘and to have a good time. Let’s do it.’

They exchange a glance, laden with meaning, and she cannot wait to speak to her privately. There are things that need to be said.

***

Still as lovely as ever, she thinks when she regards her dearest, her closest friend – the Madeline to her Porphyro on that fateful night. She still has the same sunny curls, the same rosy lips... and the blank look in her eyes from those last few days together. For a moment, she thinks she sees sadness in her eyes; then, a smile graces her face.

***

She recognises her at once, of course, though she has made great efforts to disguise herself. She has cut her once-fine blonde hair and dyed it auburn, she has taken to wearing makeup. She has remained the same, after all these years – still unbearably lovely. When she looks at her, she tries to remember the girl she once was – their swimming captain, tall and fair with her winning smile.

***

‘It’s been a long time,’ she says, hands raking through her soft, golden curls. ‘So long.’

‘Yes,’ she agrees, her head tilted to one side, so like Fiamma’s for a moment she cannot bear it.

‘Poppy...’

‘Yes?’

She does not speak again, though words crowd on her tongue, pushing to escape her lips. She simply rests her forehead against hers, and breathes in deeply. She still has the same flowery scent she had all those years ago.

Her hands come to rest in the shorn auburn hair, her lips pressing a kiss against her cheek.

‘Shh,’ she soothes, ‘shh.’

***

When they return, when someone says, after the candles are lit and they have sunk into the depths of memory, ‘Remember St. Agnes Eve?’, they remember the drinking and the dancing and the music that played in their minds. They remember Fiamma, they remember how it felt to be so free, to float, to dream.

***

She remembers leaping out of her bed, wearing her galoshes and her panama hat and the moustache Fiamma painted on her upper lip; remembers finding Poppy and dancing with her before bringing her to bed, where they kiss, moan... that night when everything had happened, when their lives had changed forever.

***

She remembers too, remembers whirling wildly with Di, arms around each other’s waists, remembers tumbling into bed and throwing clothes aside, golden limbs twining together, moonlight turning their skin silver. She remembers the kisses, the moans, the exploration... but dimly, as through a veil. That had been the first time, and the last time, that she had felt so alive.

 

&&&

 

The sun sets in the sky as they float on their backs in the lake, worried, for a moment, that being here would bring back memories of their schooldays. It does, but distantly. Their hands touch, gently and almost reluctantly, as aware as they are of their departure the next day.

When they exit the lake, they look back and watch Fiamma float away from them, see her white arms propel her away from them, into the centre of the lake. They smile, truly smile for the first time since that afternoon. And, for the first time since their midnight feast, all those years ago, they reach out and take each other’s hand, smiling at each other. They step closer, arms around waists, and then suddenly, they are whole once again.

***

It will be different from now on, Di thinks as Poppy’s soft curls fall over her shoulder. Everything will be different.


End file.
